


The Merc, The Warrior, and the Rebel

by White_Rainbow



Series: The Goal is Not to Fall (Series) [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Angst, Battle of Lasan, Enemies, Good Intentions, Kallus has a lot to make up for, M/M, Nightmares, Prequel, Regret, Spoilers for Season 1 Episodes 1-3, That embarrassing battle between Zeb and Kallus is addressed, The Goal is Not to Fall Prequel, can be read as a one-shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-27 20:22:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10816044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/White_Rainbow/pseuds/White_Rainbow
Summary: To celebrate May the Fourth I wrote this small prequel to theSeries: The Goal is Not To Fall, but can be read as a one-shot as well.May the Fourth be with you!





	The Merc, The Warrior, and the Rebel

**Author's Note:**

> Kallus in early Rebels is sort of an Elephant in the Room for me because his demeanor is so different from how I've come to love him later on in the series. This piece is sort of a way for me to work through the inconsistency. I forced myself to watch that painfully awkward fight between him and Zeb that I had actively avoided before. The more I watched it, however, the more I began to work this story out, so I hope you guys enjoy it. Thanks for reading!!
> 
> Follow me on tumblr! [White-Rainbowff](http://white-rainbowff.tumblr.com/)

Nightmares plagued Agent Kallus every night.

They came in the form of the monster who killed his platoon on Onderon.

He was a young commander, top of his class. He should have seen the ambush coming. In every nightmare he relives those same mistakes, missing the signs, dropping his guard.

And in every nightmare he hears the cries of his stormtroopers, their pleas to their commander for help.

_“I can’t see!”_

_“I can’t breathe!”_

_“Commander, what do we do?”_

_“What is that thing?”_

Each night that “thing” comes out of the smoke and ash and fire. Its hulking body is a dark silhouette, its glowing yellow eyes are hollow and empty. One-by-one his troopers’ cries are silenced with the sharp sound of a bo-rifle blast. The lasat never breaks his lumbering gait as he kills Kallus’ men.

He just smiles.

In the nightmares, the monster stands over Kallus and says the same words over and again, “Ya couldn't save ‘em. Ya failed, Kallus.”

In reality, the lasat merely stared at him, silent and grinning; rows of glistening fangs gleaming in the fiery dusk light.

The lasat always walks away leaving Kallus alone and alive among the bodies of the troopers he could not save.

Both in the dream and in reality the lasat laughs as he disappears into the smoke.

Kallus knew he would never forget that cruel cackle.

When the Battle of Lasan began, Kallus was sure the nightmares would stop.

If he could rid himself of this race of bloodthirsty, honorless creatures, the galaxy would be safer, it would be better.

Lasan only made the nightmares worse.

Kallus’ pure hatred for the lasat was shaken on that planet.

He expected the world to be infested with carbon copies of the lasat mercenary who killed his platoon.

Instead he found families. He found a rich and beautiful culture. He found honorable warriors.

The nightmares of the lasat mercenary were replaced by the death of a single lasat warrior.

A warrior who fought well. A warrior who fought fair. A warrior who, with his dying breath, gave Kallus a tired smile and a word of thanks before handing his bo-rifle to the Imperial Agent.

In the nightmare Kallus hugged the bo-rifle and wept over the corpse of his fallen enemy.

In reality, Kallus picked up that same bo-rifle and walked away through smoke and ash and fire. He issued the order to unleash untested ion disruptor rifles .

And he watched, in horror, as an entire world burned before his eyes in moments.

It was not supposed to be massacre, but that was exactly what it was.

Kallus carried that guilt with him for years. He kept the bo-rifle as penance, vowing never to forget the unforgivable, blind hatred he carried for an undeserving people. Never again would he feed into the prejudices of his Empire.

Instead, he would study, and he would learn, and be humbled by just how little he knew of the galaxy.

He built a clandestine library within his datapad, blocked from the Imperial registry. He collected texts of other cultures, lessons in language and customs. And through these teachings he discovered something unexpected: a growing love for the culinary arts of the galaxy.

Every meal he created was something tangible he could relate to, a small connection to those he may never break bread with.

Eventually, the nightmares of the warrior and the mercenary began to fade.

And for a little while, Agent Kallus slept better.

The nightmares returned the day Kallus met Garazeb Orrelios.

Their first encounter was brief, a chaotic battleground of blaster fire, scrambling wookiee workers, and a jedi... _a kriffing jedi!_

The crew of the _Ghost_ slipped through his fingers that day, but most importantly...the lasat got away.

Kallus locked himself away in the surveillance room aboard the cruiser infiltrated by these rebel scum.

He spent hours pouring through the security footage, looking for all the lasat recordings he could find.

Was he a warrior? Was he a mercenary? Who was this new foe?

He found all the footage he needed in a single five second recording: The lasat slamming his fists into a pair of stormtroopers.

“I knew they wouldn’t buy it,” the lasat shrugged, indifferently.

“You didn’t exactly give them a chance to buy it,” the mandalorian female retorted.

“Ehh, there’s just something about the feel of their helmets on my fists,” the lasat snickered.

Kallus felt his blood run cold.

That sinister smile.

That cruel laugh.

It was as if Kallus was back on Onderon, injured, scared, alone, his troopers dead all around him and a lasat mercenary towering over him chuckling.

Only now the face of this “Spectre-4” was staring back at him.

Under the guise of assisting the Sith Inquisitor in his pursuit of the rogue jedi, Kallus shifted all his efforts to hunt down the rebel lasat.

He got his chance for revenge on Lothal.

The rebels were cornered. The lasat was exactly where Kallus wanted him.

When the first stormtrooper fell to the lasat’s blaster fire, an old and familiar burning hatred ignited within Kallus' core.

“You, lasat,” Kallus snarled, brandishing his bo-rifle and shifting it to an electro-staff.

_This is it. It ends today. The nightmares die along with this lasat._

“Face me!”

The lasat did not move at first. His cold, yellow eyes looked over the bo-rifle in Kallus’ hand, the bo-rifle Kallus was gifted by a lasat with far more honor than this rebel scum would ever know.

The lasat advanced, his own bo-rifle crackling with purple electrical charge.

And Kallus charged forth to meet him, letting loose a battle cry foreign to his own ears. That sound carried the fury and grief of losing his men, the guilt of massacring an undeserving race, and the desperate desire to make things right.

The lasat’s death _would_ make things right. He had to believe that.

“Only the Honor Guard of the Lasan may carry a bo-rifle!” The lasat growled.

Kallus laughed at the insanity of it all. A rebel lasat angry at _him_ for possessing a bo-rifle? And where did the rebel get his? Hypocrite!

Still, Kallus knew when to stoke the fire. A furious opponent made mistakes. It was the first lesson he learned at the academy.

“I know,” Kallus forced out a cruel laugh. “I removed it from a guardsman myself.” Kallus got to his feet, bo-rifle in front of him, static energy licking the air. “I was there when Lasan fell,” Kallus sneered, ignoring the agonizing pangs tearing at his conscience. “I know why you fear those disruptors. I gave the order to use them.”

 _Warrior, forgive me,_ Kallus thought. _But I need to do this. I need to win. I need to avenge your honor. And I will claim that bo-rifle from him in your name._

It was worth the theatrics. The lasat was enraged. He made mistakes. Roaring and swinging wildly, Spectre-4 left his defenses open.

One hit. Two hits.

This was it! Vengeance would be his.

A third hit and the lasat fell to his knees.

Kallus was about to deliver the killing blow.

_For my squad. For the true honor guard. For my own peace of mind…_

“No!” A voice cried in the distance.

An unseen force slammed into Kallus’ chest. He was thrown backwards, slamming hard in a rock wall.

Everything went black.

And when he woke, the lasat was gone, as was his chance for vengeance.

A year went by before Kallus could face his enemy again.

Their battle sent them crashing into an ice moon of Geonosis.

Things did not turn out as Kallus had initially planned.

And once Kallus left that moon, his nightmares ceased entirely.


End file.
